


Press your space face close to mine, love

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 17:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrinneyFriday/pseuds/mygalfriday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prati has fantastic fairy rings. Well, they don’t really call them fairy rings. They’re actually called veritas rings. And there aren’t any fairies either. Don’t tell me you aren’t intrigued. Fancy a trip, wife?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Press your space face close to mine, love

**Author's Note:**

> Story title from Moonage Daydream by David Bowie.

It’s been three months since she lost her parents and her dreams have been strange ever since, memories of her childhood – both of them – haunting her every night in a way that it hasn’t since her first year in Stormcage. Tonight, she dreams of little Melody, alone in a drafty children’s home with no one but half-remembered friends and an addled caretaker for company. That little girl clung to her books for solace. She read fiction voraciously and though she had no way of knowing it at the time, far above the usual reading level for her age.

 

Shakespeare was her favorite and A Midsummer Night’s Dream was the play she read again and again, holding the book to her chest and imagining beautiful, mischievous fairies with their yellow ringlets and their nighttime revelries. She dreams of those same fairies now, but they’re not the blonde imps from her childhood imaginings. They’re pale and elegant, graceful and long-limbed, with shining ginger hair.

 

 _Amy_.

 

River wakes to the wheezing sound of the TARDIS and bolts upright in bed, her thin bed sheet dropping to the floor as she glances around frantically, heart pounding and skin chilled by the soft breeze left by the fading ship at the foot of her bed. Heart sinking, she stares at the spot where her husband had been and wonders why he hadn’t stayed. Holding back a deep sigh of disappointment, River reaches for her blanket on the floor blindly but instead of cool cotton, her fingers brush a cardboard box. She squints in the dark, swinging her legs over the side of her bed and crouching to inspect it.

 

There’s a note pinned to the top and the sight of the Doctor’s scrawl makes her smile despite herself – a midnight surprise? That ridiculous man.

 

_Found these, thought you make like to have them back. Might look good on your new bookshelves. Enjoy, dear._

 

Pressing the note to her lips and biting back a smile more befitting of a blushing schoolgirl, River lifts the lid on the box and peers inside. At the sight of her childhood books, looking exactly as they had the day she’d left them behind, she laughs in delight and blows a kiss where the TARDIS used to be, diving into her treasures to look for her favorite.

 

She pulls out the slender copy of Midsummer Night’s Dream with a hum of triumph, fully intent on curling up on her bed and reading through it to pass the rest of the night, but she pauses and raises an eyebrow at the sight of brightly colored notes sticking out at various pages. Flipping through them, she finds more of the Doctor’s handwriting and she grins, settling back into her pillow to flick through his notes.

 

The notes vary from surprisingly insightful comments on certain passages to merely idle conversation such as _Puck is a brilliant name, don’t you think so, River?_ She devours every word, oddly touched that he’d gone through her favorite book and wrote her little messages on sticky notes. To anyone else, the gesture might be simple enough, but to River, every little thing he does is cherished proof that she isn’t in this marriage alone – he _wants_ to be her husband and no amount of collapsing universes had pushed him into it.

 

Or so she tells herself.

 

She reaches the last page just before dawn and reads the final note:

 

_Prati has fantastic fairy rings. Well, they don’t really call them fairy rings. They’re actually called veritas rings. And there aren’t any fairies either. Don’t tell me you aren’t intrigued. Fancy a trip, wife?_

 

River scans the coordinates with a grin.

 

It’s been far too long since she had a proper date with her husband, so she takes her time dressing, picking out one of her simpler dresses that she knows he likes – a little blue number that always makes his eyes light up and his hands especially wandering. She puts in the diamond studs that had been an anniversary gift, applies a bit of lipstick, fluffs her hair and straps her vortex manipulator around her wrist.

 

When she materializes on Prati, she spots the TARDIS in the distance instantly but she takes her time walking there, smiling as she glances around at her surroundings. Prati is a lush, green planet with waterfalls and towering trees, and strangely enough, a booming dirigible business. She traipses through the pretty field slowly, taking in the night air and keeping an eye out for the so-called veritas rings. A few meters away, there are circles of overgrown grass and exotic flowers that look promising but she resists temptation, knowing the Doctor would pout if she started exploring without him.

 

Smiling at the thought – those puppy eyes still make her weak-kneed after all this time – River increases her pace, eager to see her husband and thank him for his gifts. She opens the door of the TARDIS quietly, hoping to sneak up on him. He always jumps and tries to pretend he’d meant to do exactly that. She stops suddenly in the doorway, taking in the new interior. She’d seen it a few times when she was younger and she’d always wondered about the change but the Doctor never answered her beyond a flippant _oh, you know how it is, got bored one night and had a bit too much to drink at Marie Antoinette’s birthday party – now there is a woman who knows how to have a good time. I mean, aside from you, dear. Speaking of 16 th century monarchs, why don’t we take a trip? _But now she knows – he just couldn’t stand to look at it anymore.

 

Biting her lip and shoving away the still raw loss of her parents, she slips inside and shuts the door softly behind her, determined to have a romantic evening with her husband. Judging by his note, he’s a little farther along than she is and the thought of an older Doctor thrills her. They so rarely sync up nowadays.

 

He stands at the console, frowning at one of the monitors, his thinking face firmly in place, though River has no idea how he’s managing to think at all with the music filling the room. The low, French crooning sounds a lot like Edith Piaf and River smirks, just about to step out of the shadows and tease him for his music choices when a soft giggle reaches her ears over the song.

 

Turning at the sound, the Doctor grins, his whole face lighting up in a way River hasn’t seen in a very long time. She stops, frozen, and stares in the direction that smile is being directed – certainly not at her. A young girl, apparently his newest companion, dances up behind him dressed in 21st century clothing and takes him by the hand, pulling him into her.

 

River’s hearts clench in her chest but she still doesn’t move, watching the Doctor take the hint and settle one hand on her hip and the other still clasped in hers. They giggle and begin to waltz around the room to the music, twirling around the console and talking quietly. She can’t hear a thing they’re saying but she doesn’t need to – the looks on their faces are far more telling than any words they might say. Back still pressed against the TARDIS door, she studies the Doctor with a lump in her throat – the soft look in his eyes, the gentle hand on the girl’s hip and his grinning face lit up by the cold blue lights overhead.

 

She knows his fondness for traveling with beautiful young women but never before has it bothered her quite like this. He needs their wonder, their innocence. But this is different. He looks utterly smitten with the girl – the way she used to imagine he felt about her but _oh_ , it’s been so long since he has looked at her that way.

 

As the song reaches its crescendo, the Doctor dips his companion and she throws her head back, laughing brightly. It’s then that she spots River standing by the door and she yelps, scrambling to right herself like a mistress caught in the master bedroom.

 

“What’s the matter?” The Doctor asks, frowning. “Did I step on your foot again?”

 

She shakes her head, shaking off her initial shock to throw him a smile. “Not since those lessons with Fred Astaire.”

 

The Doctor preens, looking inordinately smug.

 

“But we have a visitor.”

 

He glances up then, and still lurking by the door, River holds up a hand and waggles her fingers at him, determined that no matter how she feels about what she just witnessed, he’ll never see her do anything but smile.

 

“Hello Sweetie.”

 

Bless him; he beams at the sight of her, abandoning his companion’s side to bound toward her with all the overexcitement of a puppy. “River!” He laces his fingers through hers and leans in to press a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth that she accepts without trying to turn her head and snog him properly, the way she usually does. He notices, of course, because he notices everything, and frowns at her. “What are you doing here?”

 

She’s here because he asked her to join him, but apparently he hasn’t asked yet. Unless he’s suddenly decided to start bringing other women on their dates and River would certainly remember _that_ conversation with him. She doesn’t like to share.

 

Swallowing, she lets her eyes fall closed briefly to gather herself, silently hating the future version of him that had lured her here. Why would he want her to see this? To tell her without having to face her that he’s grown bored and found someone who makes his hearts light again – the way she failed to do after Manhattan? Someone younger? Ever since she became a professor – no longer the notorious inmate Doctor Song, but a contributing, relatively non-threatening member of society – she has felt her age like never before. She tries to hide it from him. Deliberately de-aging herself to keep him from seeing the lines around her eyes is one thing, but it’s more difficult to conceal the tired set of her shoulders or her terror that one day, she won’t be able to keep up anymore. And what then? She couldn’t face the idea of him staying with her out of obligation, of seeing the pity in his eyes, so she’d hidden it and thought she’d done a pretty decent job until now.

 

What if he noticed? Is this his way of breaking it to her gently?

 

She clears her throat and replies faintly, “Spoilers.”

 

“Ah.” The Doctor releases her hand and scurries back to the console, reaching beneath it for his diary.

 

Without another occupation, his companion is left to eye River warily.

 

“Doctor?”

 

He glances up from rifling through the pages of his small blue diary and sees her expectant look. “Oh, right. River, Clara. Clara, the wife.”

 

Rolling her eyes as he returns to his book, muttering to himself, Clara curtsies playfully, giving River a dimpled grin. “Nice to finally meet you.”

 

She’s very cute, with a petite frame, a sweet smile, and big brown eyes. River can _see_ the intelligence shining out of that gaze and knows her natural curiosity and wonder at the universe must be intoxicating to her husband. Inclining her head, River smiles weakly but cannot speak around the lump lodged in her throat.

 

Watching her closely for a moment, Clara glances at the Doctor and bites her lip. “Doctor, I’m going to change. You promised to take me to Space Florida, remember?”

 

Without looking up, the Doctor waves her away. “Yes, yes. In a minute.”

 

Clara winks at River and turns, skipping up the stairs and down the corridor, disappearing into the depths of the TARDIS. River watches her go, stunned. She’s giving them some time alone. The consideration makes it even more impossible to feel any resentment towards the girl.

 

Finally, the Doctor glances up. “Have we done Castrovalva yet?”

 

She nods once, cutting right to the chase. “The last time I saw you was after Manhattan.”

 

Pain flits briefly across his face and he ducks his head, shutting his book and tucking it back under the console. “How long ago?”

 

“Two months. It’s been longer for you, I’d wager.”

 

Nodding, he gets to his feet and lopes across the room to where she still stands, his shoulders hunched, and she wonders if she’s accidentally sent him back into mourning just by mentioning that awful day. He surprises her by taking her hands in his and looking into her eyes, his own filled with regret. “I’m sorry, River. For not being what you needed then.”

 

She purses her lips and glances away, eyes wet. “There’s no need to apologize, my love. We both made mistakes in our grief.”

 

His thumb caresses her knuckles softly and when she looks at him, she can tell he’s still unsure. He watches her apprehensively, his thumb never stopping those soothing circles. It dawns on her suddenly that he thinks she’s angry with him and she softens instantly, allowing her gaze to grow a little warmer. She isn’t angry with him – she’s angry with herself, for being so weak and human and not quite enough.

 

“So,” she says, carefully extracting her hand from his and offering him a bright smile to distract him from the way her fingers tremble as she clenches her hand into a fist at her side. “You have a new companion, I see.”

 

That soft grin from earlier returns to his face now and he nods eagerly, totally oblivious to the knot in her stomach. “What do you think? Have you met her before? No, wait, spoilers!” He claps his hands together in glee. “But oh, she’s brilliant, River. Keeps dying and coming back – haven’t the faintest idea why.” His grin widens, the delight of intrigue in his eyes.

 

Blimey. Young, adorable _and_ mysterious.

 

She doesn’t stand a chance.

 

“Pretty too,” she murmurs, unable to help herself.

 

“What?” The Doctor frowns, as if contemplating it. “Yes, I suppose so.”

 

She rolls her eyes. He really is so very clueless.

 

It’s time to leave, before she slaps him or cries. She isn’t sure just yet which one will win out but it’s best she gets away from him before she decides. “Well, I’m off.” She leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek.

 

“What? No, you just got here!” He looks so disappointed she feels her hearts lift just a little – he still desires her company, at least. “Come with us – just to Space Florida and then I’ll drop you off if you want.”

 

She shakes her head, determined to leave before she cracks. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m very busy – Sontarans to taunt, students to terrify...”

 

“Please?” He wheedles, then lights up with an idea. “I’ll buy you funnel cake….” He rocks back on his heels, tugging at his lapels as if he thinks he just convinced her.

 

“It’s alright, sweetie,” she says, smiling softly. “I don’t want to intrude. You and Clara have a nice time together and I’ll join you next time.”

 

He huffs. “Why did you even come then?”

 

“I was already here – surveying for excavation under one of the waterfalls,” she lies easily. “I saw the TARDIS and thought I’d pop by to check up on you. Obviously, you’re fine. My job is done.” She presses one last parting kiss to his cheek, pausing for the briefest of moments to just breathe him in, tears stinging her eyes. “Goodbye, sweetie.”

 

Turning on her heel, she keeps her head down and walks quickly, eager to leave before he sees her break. “What?” He calls after her, sounding incredulous. “That’s it? What’s the matter with you?”

 

Hearing the pounding of his footsteps behind her as she opens the door and steps back out into the night, she says over her shoulder, “Nothing, I just have to go. That site won’t survey itself.”

 

“You’re still angry about Manhattan aren’t you?” He asks, and she can hear the rustle of grass behind her as he follows after her at a rapid pace. “I knew it!”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She scoffs. “I told you – we were grieving. It doesn’t matter.”

 

“Then why are you being like this?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“So –“ He stammers, floundering for the right words before finally huffing, “Not you!”

 

Flipping open her manipulator, she begins to key in coordinates rapidly, hearts pounding in her chest as she runs away from her husband as quickly as she can without actually breaking into a sprint. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

He makes a triumphant noise in the back of his throat. “You are lying to me, River Song!”

 

Unable to stop herself, she whirls on him with a glare and he stumbles back, surprised. “So _now_ you’ve decided to start paying attention?” When his saddened gaze drops to her wrist, as if remembering, she turns quickly and stalks off again without another word, clenching her jaw tightly.

 

For a long moment, he just gapes after her before finally coming to his senses and staggering forward, hurrying through the field to catch up. River is punching in the last of her coordinates when he reaches out and circles his fingers around her wrist, jerking her back to him. She yelps and yanks her hand back, turning to glower at him. Instantly, he reaches for her other wrist, holding on tightly and despite her strength and the might of her struggle, River cannot break free. “Doctor,” she growls. “Let go.”

 

Just as stubborn as she is, his grip only tightens. “Not until you talk to me.”

 

“There’s nothing to say,” she snaps, yanking on her hands and sending them both stumbling forward. “You’re being childish -”

 

“ _I’m_ being childish?” The Doctor laughs in disbelief, his grip on her so tight she can already feel bruises forming.

 

“Yes,” she grits her teeth and tugs again. “Now let me -” She draws on all her strength and gives one last tremendous tug, and they both go tumbling forward, collapsing in a heap on the ground, their limbs entwined. River elbows him and finishes peevishly, “-go.”

 

“Honestly,” the Doctor snaps, spitting out a mouthful of grass and scowling down at her as he scrambles to sit up. “What’s gotten into you?!”

 

Suddenly, River feels the overpowering urge to tell him exactly what’s gotten into her and she clamps her mouth shut in horror as the words struggle to claw their way up her throat. The Doctor stands, brushes off his jacket and holds out a hand to her.

 

“And stop giving me that wide-eyed look,” he grumbles. “It makes me want to do unspeakable things to you.” River gapes at him and he flushes instantly, slapping a hand over his mouth. “Did I say that out loud?”

 

She nods, eyebrow raised.

 

“Oh.” He glances around in alarm. “ _Oh_.”

 

He tugs at his hair.

 

“Not good. Extremely, very, most definitely not good.”

 

Confused, annoyed, and still nursing her emotional wounds, River snaps, “What is it?”

 

Looking decidedly anxious, the Doctor rakes a hand through his hair and turns in a circle. “We’re in a veritas ring.”

 

She looks around and sees that they are indeed inside one of those circles she’d spotted on her way to the TARDIS earlier, a ring overgrown grass and tiny flowers with delicate, purple petals that give off a faint, barely perceptible glow. It hardly seems worth getting so worked up over. “And?”

 

“ _Veritas_ ,” he stresses, turning on her with an exasperated expression. “As in _truth_. As in as long as we’re in this circle, we’re powerless to be anything but honest with each other.”

 

Horrified, she scrambles on her hands and knees for the edge of the ring. “Let’s get out then.”

 

“Can’t,” is his calm reply.

 

She tries anyway and is rewarded with a sharp stinging to her fingertips for her trouble. Cursing softly, she sucks her fingers into her mouth and glares at the deceptively pretty ring. “How do we get out?”

 

The Doctor eyes her quietly. “We have to be honest first.”

 

“Fine,” she snaps. “I hate your hats.”

 

His lips quirk in mild amusement. “That’s not quite enough, dear. Sentient ring, you see. You’ll have to dig a little deeper.” His smile softens. “Some couples use the rings as a form of marriage counseling. And kids push each other into the rings to get them to spill embarrassing secrets – it’s even a tradition in some fraternities. And the longer you’re in the ring, the more secrets you feel inclined to spill so I suggest we get this over with quickly.”

 

River stares up at him, panic welling up inside her as the horrifying consequences of their stupid, _stupid_ actions dawn on her. “No,” she breathes.

 

“Oh yes,” the Doctor says with a resigned sigh. “Just – please don’t ask anything about your future, River.”

 

He looks at her pleadingly and she scowls at him. “I’m not an idiot, you know.”

 

“I never said you were an idiot.”

 

“You might as well have.”

 

He huffs and drops onto the grass with melodramatic flair, peeking at her through his fringe. River pretends to ignore him, crossing her arms over her chest and keeping her lips pursed, lest something frighteningly honest attempt to slip past them without her consent. The Doctor plucks at the grass, pouting. “You’re angry with me,” he observes quietly.

 

She shakes her head. It’s not a question, but she feels compelled to respond anyway.

 

“River, you haven’t kissed me -”

 

She opens her mouth to protest.

 

“Cheek kisses don’t count!”

 

She closes her mouth again.

 

“You keep looking at me like I’ve mortally wounded you, and you were so eager to get away from me that you weren’t even looking where you were going,” he shakes his head, mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. “ _Something_ is wrong.”

 

She bites her lip, afraid to reply.

 

Sighing, the Doctor drops his head into his hands.

 

The urge to just be honest is growing stronger and she forces out the words, “You start.”

 

He peeks at her through his fingers. “I don’t want to go first. And besides, it’s your fault we’re even here. _You_ go first.”

 

“My fault?” She gapes at him. “How is it my fault? You’re the one who wouldn’t let go of my hand!”

 

“Because you wouldn’t talk to me!” He snaps. “And none of this would have happened if you’d just gone with Clara and me to Space Florida like I asked you to!”

 

“Oh, excuse me for not wanting to be a third wheel on your date!” Eyes widening, River snaps her mouth shut and claps a hand over it for good measure, horrified by what she just let slip out.

 

The Doctor gapes at her. “Date?! Hang on, is that what this is about? You’re jealous of Clara?!”

 

River bites her lip so hard she tastes the copper tang of blood.

 

“You actually think -” He breaks off, staring at her, taking in her crossed arms and the vulnerable expression she can’t quite hide under his knowing gaze. “River, no. Clara isn’t – _no_.”

 

“Well, after that eloquent response, how can I doubt you?”

 

He laughs, of all things, his whole face lighting up with boyish amusement as he reaches for her hand. “River, you’re being ridiculous.”

 

She snatches her hand back and frowns. “How is it ridiculous to believe my husband has gone off and found someone younger and prettier and more exciting? Women hire hit men over that sort of thing all the time.”

 

“Well you’re not women,” he says, making a frustrated noise she hasn’t heard directed at her since her university days. “You’re River and you’re better than that. You _know_ better! You know I -”

 

“You what?”

 

He stares at her, mouth working silently.

 

He’s never said it. Not once. It was always enough that she knew, or at least thought she knew, how he felt about her. But now, with him staring at her wide-eyed and pale, she realizes she has been hungering for those words from his mouth all along, no matter how she tried to lie to herself that it didn’t matter that he never said them.

 

“I wouldn’t blame you,” she says softly, interrupting him before the ring forces a response from him she might not be ready to hear. “She’s very pretty and young and certainly more mysterious than I am to you now that you know everything -”

 

“She’s a companion, River,” he cuts in softly. “A friend. Nothing more. And I’m hurt that you could ever think otherwise.” She glances at him in surprise to find pain in ancient hazel eyes. “All this time, and I thought you knew without my having to say a word. I thought I was showing you – that you appreciated actions more than silly words that can’t possibly convey everything you are to me.” He sighs, his smile hollow. “But I suppose everyone needs to hear it every now and then.”

 

She daren’t breathe, afraid of asking him what he’s talking about. She refuses to give him an out. If he says it, it’s going to be because he chooses to, not because she asked him a question and a veritas ring forced him to respond. She waits, lungs burning, her hearts pounding in her ears and thinks _please_ , _please_ –

 

The Doctor reaches for her and she moves just a fraction, close enough for him to take her face in his hands and draw her into him and she feels in his fingers that he’s trembling just as much as she is. Murderers, both of them, married over two hundred years and the threat of three little words can reduce them to quivering wrecks. He kisses her sweetly, his lips brushing over hers with such tenderness she can’t help but melt against him. He clings to her in return, as if worried she might try to run off again, and she sighs softly, tasting the possessiveness almost like a tangible flavor on his tongue.

 

Pressing his forehead to hers, eyes still shut, he breathes, “I love you, River.”

 

Tears well in her eyes but she refuses to let them fall, burying her face in his neck and letting him gather her into his arms, holding her on his lap like he might a weary child. “Even though I’m old and jealous and no longer an exciting mystery?”

 

He snorts into her hair, his arms tightening around her. “You think you’re no longer a mystery? River Song, I’ll never understand you as long as I live. And as for exciting, you’re wrong there too. Never a dull moment when the wife visits – take tonight, for instance.”

 

She pinches his side and he yelps, pressing a teasing kiss to the side of her head.

 

“And second of all, the jealousy is a bit flattering and I’m not above it myself.”

 

“Really?” She raises her head, intrigued. “Who?”

 

He purses his lips, trying to contain the answer, but they’re still inside the ring and he blurts, “Jack.”

 

River laughs, delighted. “Jack Harkness?”

 

He pouts. “Handsome time agent, essentially the space equivalent of Casanova? Yes, I was a bit jealous.”

 

“Oh sweetie,” she sighs, kissing him softly and mumbling against his lips, “Now who’s being ridiculous?”

 

“He tried to seduce you!”

 

“And nothing happened,” she replies calmly, nuzzling her nose against his. “Even that young, the only one I ever saw was you.”

 

“Quite right,” he says, pleased. Then, almost hesitantly, “And ditto.”

 

She smiles against his cheek. “Even now?”

 

He slides his hands over her back and she remembers belatedly that she’d worn one of his favorite dresses. “Especially now.” Pulling back briefly, his eyes scan her face carefully. “We’re… we’re okay?”

 

Nodding slowly, she reaches up a hand and strokes his cheek softly. “We’re more than okay.”

 

He grins. “Space Florida then?”

 

Laughing, she laces her fingers through his and pulls him to his feet, tugging him out of the ring and relieved when it offers no resistance this time. “Only if you stop wearing socks with sandals on the beach.”

 

Grumbling under his breath, he starts to follow her and then tightens his grip on her hand, pulling her back with him into the ring, and she feels the warm, tingling aura envelope them once more. “One more thing,” he says softly, wrapping her in his arms. Puzzled, River tilts her head to look up at him and her eyelids flutter shut as he bends his head, pressing his lips softly to the corners of her eyes, kissing those lines she’s so self-conscious about around him. “You’re beautiful.”

 

Overwhelmed by the love and sincerity in those quiet words, River curls her hands into his jacket, tears in her eyes. “Honey?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Since we’re being candid… who’s the superior driver?”

 

He inhales sharply, his voice a low growl as he replies, “You play dirty, Song.”

 

“You like it,” she smirks. “Now who drives the TARDIS best?”

 

Cradling her face in his hands, he quickly forces out a mumbled _you do_ before covering her mouth with his, smothering her triumphant giggle and making her forget all about anything but the honest love in his kiss.


End file.
